


Small Time Shot Away

by zetuslapetus



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Beth gets shot tw if you're not into it, F/M, Gun Violence, shes fine tho obvs or will be after some TLC ya know what i mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25816327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetuslapetus/pseuds/zetuslapetus
Summary: Max returns for revenge but misses - again.orAnother drabble of Beth and Rio not knowing how to communicate yay.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 22
Kudos: 307





	Small Time Shot Away

**Author's Note:**

> Avoiding my WIPs in any way possible - please shame me. Thanks.

It happens on a freezing Friday night, in the middle of February. 

Beth loves Fridays. Downtown clears out early, which means so does the Paper Porcupine. 

She’s with her last customer and itching to close up when he walks in. The little bell above the front door dings and grabs her attention. The customer, an indecisive older woman, continues debating the difference between the Gingham and Glen plaid for her husband’s retirement party. Beth only hears every other word. She gives the women a tight smile, nods through her rambles as her eyes land on Rio. 

She watches him saunter in, hands in his pockets as he languidly makes his way to the back of the shop. He strolls through a card aisle, touches things as he walks. He’s wearing his beanie low over his ears, and Beth can see a deep blush from the cold blooming across his cheeks from the other end of the room. It makes him look boyish, almost. 

He’s here to look at Ruby’s latest ink concoction of Summer Showers and Cotton Candy Clouds and somehow he just always seems to know when she’s alone. 

Beth eventually shuffles the woman to the counter, rings her up, and walks her out so she can lock the door. He’s standing on top of the staircase, leaning on the french doors that lead to the back and watching her. She rubs her palms across her jean-clad thighs and tugs her sweater down, a nervous tick.

“Ready?” She asks, as nonchalantly as she can muster when she gets closer. She jogs up the stairs and quickly slides by him to open the doors. 

She doesn’t wait for him to respond. 

The newest batch - which Beth has dubbed Summer Cotton Candy Showers, is printed and packed in a box she now regrets stuffing on the highest shelf. She stretches on her toes, catches the box with the tips of her fingers, and drags it forwards with a soft huff. 

When she turns around he’s leaning against the door frame, still watching. His face is blank, unreadable, and a flicker of irritation bubbles inside of her at how flustered she is. 

They move around one another wordlessly. She opens the box, pulls the stacks of fresh cash out, and lays them out in front of him. He grabs a pile, slips the elastic off of it, and slides a note out. 

She has to force herself to not stare at his fingers. 

He rubs the note between his fingers, then he does something she wasn’t prepared for, he brings it up to his nose and breathes it in. 

“It even smells real,” he says, then he looks at her as if he’s waiting for an explanation. 

Beth nods, mouth a little dry. 

“It’s the cotton base that gives it the smell.”

“Recycling singles was smart,” he nods in agreement, and Beth can’t help herself, she preens. 

He flips the bill around in his hand, rubs it between his fingers again. “Looks good.”

He slides the bill back into a stack, then he drops the stack back into the box. Her eyes drop down to his hands again, and their slow movement as he piles the money back in. 

She can’t look away. 

That’s when she feels it. 

A cold gust of Michigan winter licks at the back of her neck and rips a shiver out of Beth. 

She turns.

The back door, the one that leads to the back alley is wide open. Standing in the hallway, shaking, is Max. His cheeks are wet and pink.

“Max?” Beth whispers, confused. She briefly registers Rio move behind her. 

Max isn’t looking at her, his wet eyes are trained beyond her, and locked on Rio.

“You killed her!” Max sobs, then he pulls his arm up, brandishes a gun up and points it at Rio. “You’re a killer!” He screams and Beth hears herself yell his name again. 

Max finally looks at her, blinks tears away, and sniffs. 

“And you - “ he cries, “You’re still working for him, you know what he did!” He yells and points the gun at Beth briefly before he aims it back at Rio.

Rio doesn’t say a word but he must move because Max is yelling at him again, emphasizing every word with a nudge of the gun in his hand.

“Don’t! I should have killed you then.”

Fresh tears are running down Max’s face and something twists in Beth’s chest. 

“Max, listen to me - “ she takes a step towards him and extends her hand out. 

She hears Rio hiss her name behind her but all she can focus on is Max and Max’s finger that’s wrapped around the trigger. Rio’s too far behind her, on the other side of the large work table. 

“Don’t come any closer!” Max barks at her and takes a step back.

“Max, you don’t want to do this, you’re not a killer,” she whispers.

Elizabeth takes a deep breath and another step forward, then she whispers Max’s name again. She can walk him off this ledge, she’s sure, she just needs another minute. 

Rio’s behind her, then, closer than she thought. 

She’s shuffled her body between his and Max’s when she feels Rio’s fingers wrap around her wrist. He tugs her back, hard, almost pulls her arm straight out of the socket. 

“No!” Beth grunts in protest and twists her arm but the effort is useless. Rio’s grip is too strong and he’s pulling her away. 

The sudden struggle between the two of them startles Max and all Beth can see is his finger squeeze around the trigger. 

It’s loud, bright, and the single-shot echoes inside the small room.

Everything stands still for a moment. Beth’s ears buzz from the bang and she blinks up at Max. He’s still shaking, mouth wide open. He’s mouthing something but Beth can’t hear it over the ringing in her ears.

She tries to turn back to look at Rio but he’s flush against her back before she can turn. His arms wrap around her, heat envelops her and she gives into his body. 

She feels something unfamiliar at her belly, something wet. When she looks down she sees streaks of red against the floor and seems to lose her footing. 

Rio’s there, arms squeezing her before she crumples to the ground. He brings her down slowly, holds her body flush against his own as he reaches around and pushes a palm against her middle. He presses hard, and the pressure finally registers as pain. 

She whimpers.

“Elizabeth,” he says her name, mouths it against her temple. She feels his hot breath against the side of her face and realizes he’s panting. He shifts himself into her side and slides his other hand around her neck. 

“Look at me,” he grabs her chin and tilts her head up. 

His eyes are dark, pupils blown but his voice is steady. 

“You’re so stupid, why did you do that?” He grunts. 

She’s scared to look down again because she's pretty sure she knows what she’ll see. She can still feel Rio’s palm pushing against her middle, she can feel the steady, dull pain radiating from where his palm presses. 

Her eyes water and she thinks of Annie. 

Rio’s brows are pinched, and eyes too hard. He’s breathing through his mouth, harsh, violent breaths. 

When he pulls his phone out, panic shoots through Beth.

“You can’t call the cops, how are we going to explain - “ she coughs and curls forwards at a sharp stab of pain.

Rio’s hand is wrapped so tightly around his phone his knuckles pale white. He pauses, only for a moment, then he dials and holds the phone up to his ear.

“I need you. Paper Porcupine, Elizabeth’s been shot,” he grunts into the phone and doesn’t wait for a response before the phone clatters to the floor between them and he returns his palm to her belly. 

After a moment he shuffles her backward; leans her against something cold and solid, one arm holding her middle, the other her jaw. 

She feels her pulse thudding in her neck, fast but steady. It lulls her and she lets her eyes shut. 

“No - no - no, look at me,” Rio taps her cheek and her eyes snap open. He’s crouched over her, body and legs bracketing her own.

She lets out a soft breath. She’s tired.

“It-it doesn’t hurt, I don’t feel anything. Did you feel -” she pauses, and her lower lip trembles at the memory. She remembers pulling the trigger, remembers the kickback of the gun. She remembers watching his body hit the ground. 

He grabs her chin, keeps her head level, and focused on him. Then he shakes his head and frowns.

“Nah, none of that. I’m fine and you’ll be fine, too.”

The words sound so foreign on his lips but his voice doesn’t tremble and his grip doesn’t shake. She almost believes him but his eyes are wild, dark, and keep jumping from her to the back door. If she wasn't losing it, she'd think he looked scared.

It’s overwhelming - the warmth at her belly she knows is her blood, his words, his eyes. She has to close her eyes for a moment.

“Come on, Elizabeth,” he shakes her lightly, “You gotta stay awake for those babies of yours, can’t leave ‘em with that dumb-ass husband.” 

He squeezes her chin.

“You gotta stay awake for me, open your eyes,” he lets go of her chin briefly and pushes the hair out of her eyes. It’s not soft or sweet, it’s desperate. Hair clings to her clammy skin. 

She whimpers at another stab of pain. The adrenaline is wearing off, and she can feel a burning sensation across her middle. When she opens her eyes, he gives her a soft nod.

"Good," he says and gives her chin another squeeze. 

She shakes her head, and the movement pulls her head out of his grasp. 

“You don’t need me, you have everything you need right here,” she waves her arm at the printing press and can’t help the dry laugh that slips out.

“You think I keep you around ‘cause I need you?” He asks and pushes against her belly harder. It hurts. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, lets her eyes slip shut.

“Yeah, you do,” he slides a palm against her jaw, rights her head back up. “Open your eyes,” he hisses and she does. 

She frowns, huffs at him, and a small smile tugs at his mouth.

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that ma,” he says too softly, with no real bite in his voice. His eyes drop down to her middle, to where his hand is pressed and his eyes flutter before they snap back up to her face. 

“Someone has to be,” she exhales, still frowning.

“Yeah,” he nods, slides a thumb across her lip, and wipes the sweat caught below her bottom lip. He leans into her and slides a knee against her thighs as he shuffles his body closer. He smells good, and he’s warm. 

“Why did you do that,” he mumbles and presses harder against her middle. Her blood has seeped into the cotton of his sweater, stained his fingers, his life. 

He lets her rest her head against his shoulder, wraps his hand around her neck, and dips his head down to mouth at her temple.

“Stay awake,” he says. “Talk to me.”

“It hurts,” she whimpers and feels his body tense below her. She turns her face into his neck, chases the warmth of his skin. “I’m cold,” she says and fresh tears pool in her eyes. 

The grip around her neck tightens and he pulls her closer so that for a moment her nose crushes against the skin on his neck. He looks at the door then back down to where he’s holding her. 

She briefly registers someone else walking into the room. In the back of her mind, she wonders if it's Max, if he’s back to finish the job. Adrenaline runs through her but she’s too weak to move. 

Rio shifts her body again, the arm at her neck slides around her back, and then she can’t feel the floor anymore. 

He’s talking to someone, and the last thing she feels is cold wind.

***

The room is too bright and it hurts to open her eyes but she’s so parched that she feels like she’s dead. Her body aches all over, and there's a dull pain in her middle she can't ignore. When she finally opens her eyes and turns her head the room spins. 

She spies a familiar head of hair buried against her side. 

Annie. 

She’s sitting in a chair, half of her body draped across the bed.

Beth opens her mouth to speak but everything hurts. She croaks, wets her lips, and tries again. 

The noise stirs Annie, and after a moment her head snaps up and she cries out.

“Beth!” Annie sobs and her shaky hands reach out to touch Beth’s face. Annie's cheeks are wet, eye makeup almost completely gone. She’d been crying. 

“Hi,” Beth chokes.

“You’re okay,” Annie whispers and pushes her hair back. “You’re okay,” she repeats. 

Beth nods, the room spins and she feels sleep pull her under again. 

The next time she wakes she’s not dizzy anymore and the room doesn’t seem as bright. Her belly still hurts. 

Annies gone, and Beth wonders if she’d imagined her. 

Something moves in the corner of the room, catching her attention and she blinks to clear her eyes, to make sure she’s not imagining him too. 

He’s seated in a chair, legs sprawled open, hand covering his mouth. 

His face is blank. 

She wants to ask him if he’s real but then he’s moving, answering her unspoken question. He leans forwards in the chair, bends his knees and stands. 

He moves so slow that she doesn’t know if it's the drugs in her system or just him.

The machines around her beep steadily, almost rhythmically with her breaths. 

When he finally stops, thigh almost touching the edge of her bed, she has to tilt her head up to keep his eye-line. 

Her lips part, but her throat is so dry it hurts to even think about speaking.

It’s when he reaches a hand out that she startles. He slips a finger across her forehead, pushes her hair back only she can’t process anything but the blood on his sleeve. 

Her blood.

He’s still wearing the same sweater, grey, but the sleeves are steeped a darker color that’s undeniably blood. Dried blood.

“How long have I been here?” she murmurs. 

He shakes his head, doesn’t make a move to remove his hand.

“A few hours.”

The hand slips from her temple, finger tracing across her cheeks and down to her jaw until it slips below her chin. 

“Max?” She whispers and he freezes. The hand drops from her and his jaw clenches. 

“You can’t kill him,” she pleads. Her voice breaks and she hates that she feels tears prick at her eyes. 

Rio doesn’t step away, he stays rooted in the same spot. He frowns, eyes dark like before. 

He’s angry.

“He shot you,” Rio hisses.

“It’s not his fault - ”

“You ain’t got a say in this, Elizabeth,” he snaps, “He was aiming for me, he almost -” he pauses and shakes his head. His eyes drift down to her middle, there’s nothing for him to see but his jaw ticks again.  “When I find him, and I will, I’m gonna put a bullet in him myself.”

“It’s not his fault,” she yells as loudly as she can. When she leans forwards, closer to him, a sharp pain stabs across her middle. She ignores it, pushes through. “He’s doing it for Lucy, you’d do the same thing,” she barks and that snaps something in him.

“You brought Lucy in,” he hisses at her and bends at his waist to get closer to her.

Beth’s chest tightens. He’s right.

“And you killed her,” she snaps back, “Because that’s all you know how to do.”

He laughs, dryly, and leans in even closer.

“You got no idea how close you were to bleeding out, Elizabeth,” he whispers and his eyes drop to her lips for the briefest moment. “How many times I gotta tell you, no loose ends.” 

He straightens, still frowning. Tension radiates from his body, shoulders set in a rigid line. 

_ Loose ends.  _

She briefly wonders when she’d stopped being his loose end. 

She opens her mouth to protest, to yell at him but he interrupts her and turns back for the door.

“Your sisters outside.”

Then he’s gone. 


End file.
